


Two Faced

by JazzRaft



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-25 20:15:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18170948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/pseuds/JazzRaft
Summary: Somnus never could let his brother outdo him. Ardyn's longevity, his curse, should have been his one trophy to hold over him. But Somnus, as it turns out, never died. For two thousand years, he's been right next to him. And once more, he's across from him, standing between him and the throne again. Pretending that he's someone he's not.





	Two Faced

**Author's Note:**

> A request filled from my [tumblr!](http://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/183572131167/somnus-lucis-caelum-we-finally-see-how-he) These two brothers are like the Skywalker family of Final Fantasy, Is2g.

It was not the first time he’d seen Somnus.

He’d seen him every day for the past two thousand years. He’d see him every day for the next two thousand more. His ghosts were his best, and only company in the pitiless passage of darkness inside Angelgard. Of course he never expected them to stay there. After everything they’d endured together, _of course_ he had to take them along with him when he left.

After all, there was a shiny new empire for them to haunt.

Somnus found all sorts of new places to hide around Zegnautus Keep: in the reflections of mirrors, windows, and wine glasses, his shrewd stare grinning up at him through a surface of blood red; he appeared around all the sharp corners of the labyrinthine fortress, and lounged in all its shadowy corridors like a bored cat, trying out different spots to sleep.

His brother never slept, though. Neither of them did.

Sometimes, he’d try on different people. He’d tire of his ancient robes and model himself on the new, Niflheim fashion. Ardyn sat in Besithia’s lab, fingers drumming against the desk while the scientist spouted theories and hypotheses over his now monthly (used to be weekly, used to be daily – nothing an unblinking eldritch glare couldn’t reduce) checkup. The unchanging pattern of the wall tiles was more interesting. He would stare for so long at the thin black points where each tile intersected that his eyes would go out of focus.

And in that bored blur that glazed over the whole room, there Somnus would be, pacing back and forth in Besithia’s crimson cloak, pantomiming scientific method. Sometimes he saw him behind the visors of MTs stationed around the keep. Sometimes he saw him sitting on the Emperor’s throne, sneering down at him, dressed in the false white raiment of purity and virtue. More than once, he caught himself with his hands halfway to Eldercapt’s throat, just before he turned his head and Somnus fled, back to playing hide and seek.

Today, he saw his brother on a screen, trying on another stranger. This time in the ebony vestments of Lucian prestige. He even changed up his hair.

“There a reason you’re lurking over my shoulder? Or is it just a typical Tuesday for you?”

Highwind seemed to be the one frequenter of Zegnautus Keep that Ardyn couldn’t pull under his sway. She couldn’t be reined in with a glare, or persuaded into an action which argued with her code of honor – much as she pretended not to have one. Part of the privilege of working off-site, he supposed. She never stuck around to fall under anyone’s influence, anchoring her airship just long enough to make her reports, receive her payment, and then her new task. Proximity through isolation had been Ardyn’s most useful tool. They all thought he was theirs to control. He and Aranea weren’t all that different, in that one sense.

He might have liked her.

If only Somnus didn’t like her, too.

“He looks familiar,” Ardyn said, nodding at the newsfeed scrolling down her tablet.

“I imagine he does,” she said, in that sly, snake-like drawl Somnus loved so much. “Lucis’s little jewel in the Crown. The paparazzi can’t nab enough candids now that he’s out and about.”

Aranea glanced at him when he didn’t go away, the reptilian chill in her eyes thawing just slightly when she remembered his unique circumstances. “Out of touch with time,” his files must have said; “adapting,” “inexperienced,” and “missing two thousand years’ worth of human progress.” Aranea didn’t trust him, and she never would, but she was sympathetic to his “struggles.” She hid it beneath the sharp claws of her armor, but beneath her helm she shielded a soft heart.

That made her weak. If she ever stuck around long enough, she could be so easy to manipulate.

“He’s the Prince of Lucis,” Aranea told him, enlarging the photo on the screen. “Old Regis’s son. Must have just turned eighteen. The Lucian press love him, think he’s a real Prince Charming.”

Ardyn’s lip twitched. His fingers twitched at his side, eager to reach around that slim throat and squeeze. If he couldn’t kill Somnus the Emperor, maybe he could at least catch Somnus the Prince, instead.

“Yes,” he said. “Charming.”

* * *

Oh, it was him.

But it wasn’t him.

This “Noctis” was so much like his brother, swaggering down the boardwalk like the whole world belonged to him. He even walked like Somnus, off rhythm, leading with one foot over the other to create that arrogant, “look at me” strut.

An injury, the reports had said. Poor, pitiful Noctis, hurt by the big bad marilith, cooed and coddled over by the masses for his brave struggle to recovery.

It was a stagger, not a swagger, the files said. It was another lie, Ardyn said. He knew his brother too well.

He held a contingency of loyal followers in his thrall, enchanted by his smile. They would die for any lie he told them. They would kill for even less. All so easily fooled by a pretty face, a perfect smile, a quiet word planted here and there, ready to detonate into laughter at his whim.  As if they were all such good friends. As if the three of them weren’t all merely tools to the Lucian Crown’s deceit.

History really did repeat itself.

Well, Ardyn couldn’t have that. And he couldn’t well leave those fresh, young souls to Somnus’s lies now, could he? They’d learn the truth soon enough.

Ardyn would teach them. Every last one of them.

It would be a mercy.

He was ahead of history this time. This time, he’d left no kingdom behind for him to rally, no adoring public to clamor behind this false hero. Their king had failed them, and their beloved prince was dead. _Best of luck taking back the throne from the grave, brother._

All those years together, locked across the bay – all the shadows they’d shared – and still, Somnus had the gall not to recognize him at the docks. Ardyn didn’t let it upset him. This was what his brother did. It was what he was best at. He was so good at playing pretend, donning those doe eyes and feigning ignorance. Letting his Shield usher away the jester before he insulted the esteemed king.

_Fine. Have it your way. Let’s play make-believe. You play the king, I’ll play the jester._

Like any good jester, Ardyn wasn’t so petty as not to compensate his lord for any insult he may have made against his character. He left him with one thing more than Somnus had ever left him.

He gave him a coin.

He was going to need it.

The ferryman’s toll came at a high price.

* * *

_Isn’t this what you wanted?_

Wasn’t this _thing_ all either of them had ever cared about?

Truly, had there ever been any greater love than theirs with the Crystal? Over princesses and oracles, over their people and their promises, over duty and loyalty, this one thing shone above them all.

What demanded greater sacrifice? Greater devotion? What else in this world asked for the entirety of one’s soul, committed for all eternity to a greater, glorious purpose, than this one, timeless rock?

This was always the final goal. Always the last love, writhing in the darkness, calling for them both.

Ardyn thought he was doing him a kindness. This was all his brother had ever wanted, wasn’t it? Fine, then. He could have it. Ardyn would be the bigger person this time around. If Somnus wanted to see the gods’ will so badly, far be it from him to stand in his way. He’d already seen it himself. Look what that got him.

Never let it be said that he didn’t know how to share.

Yet still, Somnus loathed him for it. Still he struggled, still he cursed him, and condemned him, even when he had everything he’d ever wanted. The ring on his finger, the embrace of the Crystal, the favor of the gods; he had it all. And Ardyn had been kind enough to give it to him.

He stood in Zegnautus Keep, watched the Chosen King fade into the Crystal, screaming. Pretending, again, like he'd never asked for any of this.

Brotherhood was such a thankless union.

**Author's Note:**

> To conclude, I'd fight them both for Noct.


End file.
